


(untitled)

by your_taxidermy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Murder Mystery, Post Vietnam War, Serial Killers, Vietnam War, historical themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: set in 1975,  Louisiana is plagued by a US army ranger turned murderous eye doctor. Silas finds himself falling for a young prostitute named Diana. Taking the runaway under his wing, things take a turn for the worst when she discovers his dark secret.(will update later)contains dark themes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Wow. It's been a hot minuet since I've posted on here and I'm suddenly not feeling too confident about it. My friend has been badgering me to share this with people so... here goes. I'm like 10 chapters in and I'll get around to posting them all on here at some point. anyways. enjoy. 
> 
> Dedicated to R.B

**_Baton Rouge. Louisiana. 1975_ **

The line to the hardware store seemed endless, the cashier couldn’t ring people up fast enough. It was hot, humid, and sunny. The open windows welcomed a gentle breeze, it swayed the American flag on the wall back and forth. The young cashier shifted her weight from side to side as the next elderly man walked up. “Did you find everything you were looking for today sir?” she asked with a smile. The old man glanced up at her. “Afraid not,” he shortly replied. The man behind him raised his gaze from the floor, scanning the man’s denim jacket, counting every stitch along the back. ‘Double stitched,’ he thought. ‘How nice.’ 

“Oh! What a shame, can I help you find what you were looking for?” she offered him a warm smile. 

“No, already looked around and don’t want to waste any more time in this place.” he snapped harshly. The man behind him raised his gaze to the back of his head, following the wrinkly contours of his neck. The revving of electric hedge trimmers in the back clouded his mind, what would it be like to decapitate him in the back swamps? It would be awfully messy, to say the least. 

“Such a shame, sir, I hope you can find it the next time.” 

He slaps a 50 dollar bill on the table. 

The man behind him perks his brow at such rudeness. She struggles to slide it towards her. The anxiety of an annoyed customer only made her brow sweat even more. This man was already rude enough, the thought of dealing with 10 more of him was agonizing. Coins clanked together as she handed him the change. “Have a good day sir. Next?” 

“Oh!  **Silas!** It’s good to see you again, how are you?” 

“All is well, the sky isn’t falling so can I complain?” 

“I suppose not, I suppose not. What’s with the hacksaw?” she asked. 

Silas glanced down at his items on the counter. “I’m building a birdhouse, the woodpeckers are swarming me and the squirrels broke my other one.” He reached into his wallet to grab the cash. The leather was worn and frayed, god knows how long he had the thing. “We have repellent if the little bastards are wasting your birdseed.” She weighed the bolts, a whopping 6 pounds. “No need for that, they need to eat too, don’t they? I don’t mind them, but thank you for the suggestion.” 

She finished processing the items and neatly tied the bag up. He noticed her hands struggled to tie the knot. Her eyes turned to slits as her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. “Don’t worry yourself,  **Dolores** ,” he said with a gentle smile. 

Just as he walked out the door, he spun around on one foot, how could he possibly forget. “I’ll be back later today, do you think you could call for an order of propane if that’s not too out of the way?” He struggled to balance on his one foot but he managed it with a toothy grin. “Oh, sure! I’ll be seeing you!” He regained his balance and slung the bag over his shoulder. The bolts jingled around with each long stride he took down the street. The air was heavy, strong with the scent of food truck shrimp and pulled-pork. He inhaled deeply and his mouth watered, he followed the scent like a bloodhound before found his favorite eatery: Edna’s Sip ‘N Shrimp. Edna was 76 years old and had run the same food truck since she was a little girl. Silas had been getting his lunch thereafter his classes for years. “Hi, Edna!” The street was slow as he jogged across to see her, her thin lips pulled into a smile. “Hi there, sweetheart, can I get your usual?” 

“Why, you know me too well, Miss Edna. Could you also get me a Dr. Pepper and shrimp sandwich?” 

The old woman smiled. “Surely, sweetie.” Her experienced hands layered 8 thinly halved shrimps on a buttery brioche bun. Silas still watched in awe, amazed at how fast she worked for her older years. “Thank you so much, I think I’d starve without you.” he handed her a crisp 20 dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He took the foil-wrapped items and set on his journey home. His journey was never exciting, always the same faces but he still gave them the same smile and wave. Children always asked if he could shoot a hoop with them and he did, though he barely had to try as he could just place it through the netting. He towered above them, above everyone. Though those happy-go-lucky children sat happily at their lunch table chowing down on the Sip N’ Shrimp specials. Silas waved to them as he crossed the street. 

He made his way to his apartment, but he was more interested in his car rather than a cozy bed. He put the food in the backseat and set out. He flicked the radio on and glanced in his side mirrors. 

_ I'm tired of being lonely… I want someone to love  _

The melancholic words over an upbeat tune spoke to his heart, he found himself swaying his head to Dion’s fine notes. 

A little over a half-hour drive, Silas found the back roads once more, a comforting, quiet place for him. Elvis serenaded him over the radio as the woods slowly turned into darkness. The sunlight quickly faded into heavenly moonlight. He parked his car, grabbed the food, and set down the path that slowly leads into the dense, eerie swamp. A crudely made wooden path leads into a shack comprised of metal paneling and splintering wood. The alligators surrounding it rumbled lowly, sensing he had returned. Silas made it a habit to throw food into the murky waters, watching them swallow the small amount of food. He stood on the edge of the path, he locked onto the glowing yellow irises before throwing his lunch into the water. A split second passed and the waters thrashed and loud rumbles bellowed through the swamp. “I’ll bring you more soon.” 

The wood under his boots creaked slowly. He banged on the door sporadically. The door was sturdy and well built. Sound-proof padding was slapped against the walls. “Oh my god, someone please help me! Please!” A woman’s voice screamed at the top of her lungs. No matter how hard she tried, her screams never left the shed. “I’ve been in here for days! Please somebody fucking help me before he comes back!” her voice was parched but she managed a scream and cry. 

Silas let out a sigh, he took it she didn’t miss his company. He starred at the door, biting his inner cheeks. “PLEASE!” she cried again. Her arms and legs were bound so tight she’s lost feeling in them, a constant state of needles jabbing her flesh. He unlocked it and her heart sunk into her stomach. “Is that polite to talk about someone behind their back?” he poked his head into the door with a smile. “I brought you something to eat and drink, do you like Dr. Pepper?” He placed it neatly on the bench, right beside the neat array of shiny red axes. They were resting on the wall in a perfect line, not a hair out of place. Beside hung a freshly opened hacksaw, the stainless steel blade shining under the lights. She whimpered lowly, a steady flow of tears running down her cheeks. “Please… why are you doing this?” she begged. Silas turned his head, brown eyes glancing down at his unwilling participant.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re allergic to shellfish?” he let out a heavy sigh, “would you like some music? I’m sorry, I should have asked beforehand if you eat shellfish.” His voice was making her ears bleed. He put in his favorite cassette and gave his helps a gentle sway to the first beat.  _ “It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished ‘em well…:  _ He tapped his foot against the wood floors, they creaked and screamed under him; much like the captive would sooner or later. He would crush the harlots under his boot heels like cockroaches. She could only sob, when she thought she sobbed the hardest she could, it only came on stronger. “You must be hungry, I’d forget about all food preferences now…” He unwrapped the foil and took a deep inhale, his mouth watered. “It’d be foolish to decline hot food just because you want to leave.” he turned to face her and crouched, he held the food in front of her face, waiting for her to bite down. “Too hot?” he asked. 

The woman looked into his eyes, agony stretched over her face. “Please… let me go.” she cried weakly, “I’m begging you.” she lowered her head in front of him. Silas stared at her. His eyelids drooped slightly, his tongue slid tightly across his canines. When she raised her head all she could see was the face of a demon. His eyes snapped open and the dullness in his face had been replaced with pure sunshine. “Are you not hungry? See, when I was in uhh… Vietnam, we ate even when we weren’t hungry, you gotta have fuel, you know? So I’d really suggest you eat, this  _ is  _ your last meal.” He was starting to lose his grip, he’d wait at a red light forever but even forever had its limits. “Let me-” 

He grabbed her by the face, his nails dug into her stained-cheeks. Still, anger never overtook his face. He said nothing. Silas forced the sandwich into her mouth, making her bite down. He tore it from her teeth and quickly placed a hand over her mouth. “Eat. It’s been over 48 hours.” 

She was confused by his forceful compassion when 2 days prior he threw her into the shed and left her for dead - or so she thought. The radio had malfunctioned and she was forced to sit in dead silence with her captor, her eventual murderer. He gave her another bite and she slowly chewed. He entirely took his hand from her mouth and reached for the drink. “Was that so hard? Was it not written in the Scripture to feed those who are hungry? You must hate the sin, love the sinner, hm?” He rose to his feet and crumbled the greasy paper bag in his hands. “What...what are you going to do to me?” through gritted teeth, her voice shook with fear but she tried to remain calm. Silas thought about it, he flipped through his wicked ways in pure silence. She swore he was holding his breath. He faced her and leaned on the table, a smile wiped over his face. His smile struck fear into her heart, her blood ran ice cold. “Well,” he began, biting his bottom lip. “I won’t say I’m not gonna kill you,” he trailed, eyes gently rolling around the room. A wide grin crept across his face, his lips parted and she swore she saw a vicious pair of fangs. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said again, only this time his voice shook with excitement. The more eager he became, the more petrified she became. He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth. His hands began to tremble rapidly. He glanced at the array of tools at his disposal. “See those? I want you to pick the one you want to be beaten into your skull.” 


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yada yada dark themes

Silas sat on the edge of the dock, a rickety camping chair under him. He watched as the alligators gently swam through the thick, murky waters. It was a bright 10 AM and the sun was already beaming down. He rested his leg on top of the other, his fingers running along the edge of his boots. His silence was pure, nothing but white noise in the confines of his skull. Emptiness filled both his heart and mind, emptiness was all he had ever truly known. A pair of dark eyes scanned water carefully, he was waiting, watching, and planning. The air was thick with moisture, he had grown used to such things in Vietnam. He got up to his feet and he stood imposingly tall. Bitter anger ran through him this morning, he was edgy, waiting for someone to push his buttons. He hated feeling this way but as far as he was concerned; if he could not change it in 5 minutes, don’t bother stressing out over it. 

He pulled the shed keys from his jeans and slammed them into the door. “Wake up,” he said. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” 

The woman lifted her head, blinking was even a struggle. “I assume you did as I asked, yes? You picked something on the wall for me to cave your head in? I mean, I’ve given you all night.” Her lack of reply was beginning to get on his nerves. “Why… why are you doing this to me?” 

“Do you  _ really  _ believe you’re the  _ only  _ whore I’ve picked up off the street? Come now, don’t be so stupid.” He ran his hand along the heavy crowbar, soon to the hammer. “I watched you whore yourself out for the cheapest penny, dare I say I took pity. Isn’t this better than getting used in a disgusting alley behind the cheapest motel you can find?’ His anger began to bubble over before he even saw it coming. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m not going to be like the men you’re used to, I’m not even going to lay a finger on you.” His voice almost became sing-songy. Anger displayed as giddiness, maybe even a touch of playfulness was far more terrifying than a scream of fury; at least they knew what was in their wake. 

“What do you fucking want from me?” she cried softly.

“Please, I have a daughter, she needs me, she needs her mother.” she pleaded again, but Silas could stiff a lie out like a bloodhound. “Is that so?” he quizzed her. He began to circle her, each step was sounding closer and closer to a war drum. “How old is she?” Silas’s lips curled into a smile, he was having fun with this. 

“She is is 6 years old.” 

“Oh,” he perked his brow at her quick reply. “Isn’t that interesting.” He swung his hands behind his back and clapped them. “So you mean to tell me you don’t waste that money on booze and blow?” 

He kept circling her, though he was mindful not to step on her clothes. “All for my little girl… she is probably so worried for me.” 

Silas gave her a shrug. “I’m sure she is,” he said suddenly. He stood stone still and stared down at her. His eyes were dead and cold. “How long were you going to keep that up, you liar?” 

She looked up at him with worried, tired eyes. He looked at the wall again and finally grabbed a large hammer. He spun it around in his hand. “I really wish I could show you what these floors are going to look like when I’m done with you.” 

The silence was screaming. “Please,” she began to sob. “Don’t do this, I am begging you!” 

Silas looked at his trusted hammer and thought about it, did she really deserve to be beaten in? He took a step closer to her. He was imposing as he stood before her. “You wasted your chance by lying to me, and to think I would have taken you to the river for salvation…” Before she could utter another lie, Silas hit her in the side of the head. Again and again. He didn’t want to stop until his arms hurt or were too tired for another swing. Blood splashed upon his face, his eyes wide with excitement and the sheer thrill of the hunt. “You dirty bitch!” he shouted to her corpse, his voice was booming like rolling thunder. With each smash of her skull, there was a heavy thud against the wooden floors. Soon she was a body with a smeared head across the floor. “You whore of Babylon, you wretched, putrid creature!” Bits of her skull were stuck in the floorboards, broken teeth sticking from her cheeks. Silas was drenched, his ebony hair stuck to his face in the combination is sticky blood and sweat. He found himself hitting a mass of flesh, his hammer was smothered in her brains. He stood straight up and looked at his handy work. His lower back ached from hunching over for such a long time. He shook off the hammer and a stubborn chunk of flesh stuck to the metal. He flicked it off with his fingers. 

Silas shook his hands off, the blood was ice cold against his skin. He had to get the blood off his hands, cleaning up was his least favorite part of it all, and to get blood on everything he used in the aftermath was just more to bleach. When he opened the door to the outside, something felt amiss. The air was different. 

Gasoline was in the air. His eyes turned to razor slips. He heard a voice in the distance. Silas reached into his belt for his combat knife, strong fingers wrapping around the handle. When suddenly, the crickets were drowned out by the mighty growl of an alligator. A loud, guttural growl escaped the creature. “Oh shit! He’s pissed off, put the fucking wire around its head!” A male voice shouted frantically. “Easier said than fucking done!” Another voice called. 

Silas knew what needed to be done; the creatures of the swamp protected him from the law and he would certainly protect them from poachers. It was blood money, sell their skins for a rich man to wear and their exotic meat for those same rich men to consume with a silver fork. He knew they couldn’t catch the king of the swamp on their own, they’d already pissed it off. 

Silas lowered himself into the swamp, he was prepared to pick off leeches off his thighs when he reached land. The waters were up to his waist, it was cold against his skin. The ground under him was thick, the mud was almost sucking off his boots. He felt like he was in Vietnam once again, only his enemies weren’t men in the trees. He stalked their boat, the algae colony was split in half where their boat had gone through. Another mighty roar escaped the animal, water splashed violently as the alligator ripped apart the metal wire around its neck. He backed up against a cypress tree, peering around to see the men’s boat just up ahead. He saw the two men rowing away from the exhausted predator. They rowed their boat back several feet and the animal did not follow with an attack; just a mighty rumble. “You men are foolish,” Silas muttered to himself. The men gave up and cut their losses. “I don’t know how he expects us to capture these fucking things, damned thing nearly totaled our boat.” They struggled to turn their boat around, Silas watched as they foolishly struggled. He knew these swamps better than anyone; they were his home, his kingdom, and one day may they be his grave. “Fuck, turn the boat around, not into a fucking tree. You idiot!” “I don’t see you helping me!” They bickered like children. Silas grew tired of their arguing. He crept slowly to them, weaving in and around the ancient trees of the swamp. His anger boiled, his blood pumped with mighty force. He would defend his land, his  _ home with his life.  _ The poachers tried to turn their boat around but with no luck, the passage out was too narrow and they couldn’t move forward towards the beast. 

“Be careful little mouth what you say,” Silas whispered to himself. They were too busy flapping their gums to realize he was only feet away from them. He peered out from the tree and took his aim. He held his knife by the tip of the blade, being mindful not to slice his skin. He honed in on the man on the left, he waited for him to stand at just the right angle for the perfect throw. “Just a little to your right,” Silas whispered. And seemingly like clockwork, the man shifted to his right to adjust the boat. He took a step closer to the men and threw the knife, the blade pierced the back of his neck and he dropped into the water. Water splashed into the boat and the other man screamed, he was filled with utter terror. Silas pulled another knife from his thigh belt. He showed himself to the young man, beside him lied his dead friend. “Don’t move, you wouldn’t want me to miss, would you?” the man teased. “It is people like you I hate the most, you are greedy pawns, are you even aware?” Silas asked with a smile. “Mister, please, don’t hurt me-” Silas cut him off. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? How many… ‘oh please! Don’t kill me, don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die.’ How many times… they say the same thing. What makes an alligator hunter different?” he was coy this time. This was slowly turning into a game for him and he was the master. “Come with me,” Silas ushered him. “Come on, I won’t hurt you.” 

He put the knife away. “I’ll show you a path out. Would you rather be like your friend? These gators can grab you faster than I can throw a knife.” 

Finally, he listened. “F-fine…” He slowly walked out of the boat and into the murky waters. Silas extended his hand to the young man. He was no older than 25, even Silas could see youth in his eyes. Mosquitoes were buzzing in his ears, he hit his skin hard as he tried to catch up with Silas. The sins of his past were slowly catching up to him. “What the fuck am I doing,” he cried, “what am I doing…” salty tears streamed down his sweaty cheeks, the cuts on his face stung like hell. “People see things in the swamp, my friend. People see things.” Silas called back to him. The sound of gently moving water was the only thing they could hear, the birds were quiet as church mice, the alligators were still warming up in the sun. The young man wasn’t sure why he was following the man who had just slain his companion. 

Silas brought him to the shack, he helped him get up the shaky steps. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll bring you water. Remember, people, see things in the swamps.” Silas ushered him to sit down in his usual viewing chair. He opened up the door to his shack and grabbed one of the gallons of distilled water in the corner. He cracked it open and took a heavy gulp of it, it ran down his muscular neckband to his chest. He carried the jug out to the young man and dumped it over his head. “You’re hot, you need to drink up.” Silas brought the mouth of the bottle to the man’s lips and helped him drink. Silas held it gently in his hands, as the man drank, Silas brought a finger under the man’s chin. “Easy, drink slowly. Slow,” he cooed. “God told me to spare you.” He said suddenly. “He told me you were pure-hearted, he told me to cast my stones to the side and to throw forth kindness to the struggling nomad.” Silas took a gentle hand to the man’s cheek, wiping the mud from his skin. “He told me to offer you a chance.” 

The man gulped hard, feeling the hand of a murderer on his skin made his blood run cold. “I won’t tell a soul.” He stammered, almost recoiling from his touch. “You don’t need to tell me twice, friend. Who will hear you? Your poaching sews your mouth shut, what lawman will ever listen to you?” Silas proposed with a shrug. His eyes scanned the cuts on the other’s cheek. “What’s your name?” He asked. The other man blinked, wondering why this deranged swamp-dweller would ever show him any kindness. “My name is Isaac,” he replied, “Isaac Miller.” He held the gallon jug in his hands and slowly drank. The water felt like heaven to his dehydrated lips and tongue. “Well, Isaac,” Silas began as he walked behind him. He rested a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You’re free to go.” Silas’s touch sent a current through him, his blood ran ice cold. Isaac said nothing but his nod spoke a thousand words. He mouthed a quick thank you, he felt like he was in a dreamscape. Silas watched him run through the mud, slipping and sliding all over. He fell face-first into the thickest part of the ground, the few strips of land merged with the murky waters and created a treacherous path. Silas watched him slop around like a pig, he was only slightly hoping to watch him get torn to shreds by alligators. Now that that mess was over, Silas could get back to his other task at hand. He sauntered back inside the shed. “Look at you,” he said, “looking at me.” his eyes met the crushed eyeball on the floor. “You have such pretty eyes, tell me, what all have they seen? Maybe… a murder on 22nd Street? Perhaps a robbery gone bad and you just watched? I’m sure you’re very experienced in just… idling by, hm?” His eyes scanned down her body, from her bosom covered in blood to her stained, dirty feet. 

Silas had an array of sharp objects on the walls, from perfectly manicured machetes to 9-inch hunting knives. He glanced back at her mangled body, sizing her up before picking the perfect tool. He took a step over to the bench, his hand hovered over the weapons, he could be so indecisive at times. First, he looked down in his toolbox under the bench. He flicked it open with ease before grabbing a switchblade. It clicked, his heart pulsed in his ears. He loved that noise, he loved watching the blade poke out with razor speed. He ran his finger along the edge of the blade ever so slightly, just barely enough to leave a white line over his skin. He crouched in front of her, her blood dried on her skin. He grabbed a handful of her blouse and ripped it apart, the sound of ripping fabric was exhilarating. He ripped the rest of her shirt with his strong, monstrous hands. She wore a navy blue push-up bra, his hands were nimbly slipped under the center front of the bra. He ran his blade through the fabric. “You’ve been great,” Silas said. He ran his knife through her skirt, the elastic snapped back and bruised her dead skin. He threw her torn clothes into the corner of the room. He pulled her into the center of the room, her limp, mangled body snagged on the wooden floors. He spread her arms and legs as far as they could go. He looked her corpse up and down and thought about a tool to use. He faced his weapon wall and grabbed a long machete. He rotated the blade in his hand and smiled at his own reflection. “Let’s go for some music, shall we?” he used his knuckled to activate his radio. He sang along as he gently swayed from side to side. He turned on his heels and let the music move his soul, the heartfelt lyrics of desperation and love sickness. He gave a fell swoop with the blade, it cut cleanly through her ankle. He moved up her body, from ankle to knee, knee to mid-thigh. Her thighs were thick and it took a greater effort to chop through. The thuds shook the table, his slashes became harder, more vicious. Her muscles were dark red and her blood ran still. Her body had been hacked into alligator size pieces and he was eager to feed his friends their dinner. He picked up both her dismembered feet and walked them to the dock. He stomped his foot 3 times on the wood. A smile stretched over his face when a large, battle-worn gator lifted its head from the waters. A scar ran across his left eye and half of his tail was missing. Silas had grown fond of his animals, he was the king of the swamp and his army of alligators were his foot soldiers. 

“Come get your dinner, old man.” The predator grumbled in reply. “Oh, well… you’ll get more, you have no room to complain!” Silas argued with the creature. He threw the foot in the water and his friend snatched it up in a flash. Flesh hung from his mouth and Silas swore he saw a smile. The second foot met the same fate. He walked back to bring the rest of her out. He rolled her thighs into the waters and the alligator snatched it up like before. He watched as the flesh was carried off into the waters never to be seen again. 


End file.
